


Hopeless Attempts

by Theyfightcrime



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode 7 Fix-It, Fix-It, Gen, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 04, basically just two dudes in a diner talking about salvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27884734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theyfightcrime/pseuds/Theyfightcrime
Summary: He knocked on the window before Odis even noticed him— five times, he could hear, though he wasn't sure if he was being mocked. He felt a surge of two or three emotions at once— part surprise, part fear, part relief— as he saw Deafy’s ever-fixed smile looking in through the glass.He leaned over, clicking the lock on the door and eventually opening it. He was surprised he was able to at all— he was all sweat and tears, after that. Looking at the two of them it’d be impossible to tell which one had just survived a shootout and which had stayed in the car.Or, an AU where the shootout ends, Zelmare and Swanee are arrested, and Odis never leaves the car.
Relationships: Dick "Deafy" Wickware/Odis Weff
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	Hopeless Attempts

**Author's Note:**

> “And out of that hopeless attempt has come nearly all that we call human history—money, poverty, ambition, war, prostitution, classes, empires, slavery—the long terrible story of man trying to find something other than God which will make him happy.”  
> ― C.S. Lewis

The shootout was long over by the time Odis was able to wrestle control of his thoughts back from his compulsions. There were ambulances pulling up by the score, police cars flying by, survivors standing by the scene, talking with officers. He told himself that maybe he would get lucky, and he wouldn’t see a broad-brimmed hat and fur coat among them.

But he had never been a lucky man.

He knocked on the window before Odis even noticed him— five times, he could hear, though he wasn't sure if he was being mocked. He felt a surge of two or three emotions at once— part surprise, part fear, part relief— as he saw Deafy’s ever-fixed smile looking in through the glass.

He leaned over, clicking the lock on the door and eventually opening it. He was surprised he was able to at all— he was all sweat and tears, after that. Looking at the two of them it’d be impossible to tell which one had just survived a shootout and which had stayed in the car.

“Didn’t see you in there, Palomino,” Deafy said, his tone disarming and easy. Or, at least, it would have been if Odis hadn’t learned what to expect from him by then. Now, it only made him feel nauseous.

“Loy Cannon called and told me to kill you.” The words spilled out like vomit, quick and painful, with a terrible taste left behind.

He didn’t look at Deafy, but he saw his shadow as he turned and looked at him, and he could feel his hawklike gaze underneath his skin, looking straight through him.

“I know,” he said, simply. “Didn’t I tell you I can’t be fooled by no man or beast?”

Odis looked at him then, a mixture of bewilderment and anxiety, sure it was showing on his face. “But you didn’t stop me?”

Deafy looked out at the scene in front of them— flashing lights and bloody coats, families that might never be whole again.

“The lord is my Shepherd,” he said, slipping easily into his preacher’s cadence, “I trust he has a plan for me, as he has a plan for all of us. If that plan was for me to die, then...”

He made a gesture of some kind, one that Odis didn’t understand.

“...then I’ll walk through that valley of the shadow of death, and I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.”

Odis stared.

“Maybe Heavenly Father was with you tonight,” Deafy said, turning the key in the ignition and shifting into drive. “Maybe those ticks and twitches are just his way of lookin’ out for people like me.”

“I don’t... I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Maybe. Tell me. All that business you told me about— the impulses, looking for power— that true? Or part of the lie?”

“Mostly true,” Odis said. “It helps to have control.”

“And what you said about wantin’ to be a real cop again— you meant that, too?”

Odis swallowed, watching the streets grow quieter, the night grow darker. “I didn’t at the time.”

“Well,” Deafy said, and just by his tone, Odis knew he was about to receive a sermon. “The thing about salvation is that no one finds it with clean hands.”

“You sound like my girl,” Odis said, without thinking.

“You never told me her name.”

Odis swallowed. “Levney.”

“She a religious woman?”

“Catholic.”

Deafy laughed, a dry, dismissive heh. “Well, there were some things they got right. But back to the topic at hand— I can’t think of a better time to turn over a new leaf than right now.”

“The Cannons will be after me when they find out you’re alive,” Odis pointed out. “I’m dead meat now. Doubly so if the Faddas realize what’s happened.”

Deafy whistled, a slow arc that ended in indecision. “Looks like you’ve dug yourself quite the hole.”

“That’s one way of saying it.”

“Well, the way I see it is, you can keep digging forever— running from this or that, and trying to keep them off your tail— or. You can simply stop digging.”

“But what do I do when they catch me?”

“Well, Palomino,” Deafy said, giving a side smile, “you and I can show them a thing or two. And if it’s not enough... then there are worse things than dyin’ with your boots on.”

The nighttime world was moving past them quickly now, and Odis stared out at the streetlights as they flew by, streaks of light against the darkness, filling the silence. They were headed eastward, away from Odis’ apartment and police headquarters. Out of town.

“Where are we going?”

“Well, I reckoned that if I were a man like Mr. Loy Cannon, I’d be smart enough to have someone waiting at your place,” Deafy reasoned, shifting into the next lane over and picking up speed. “So, your best bet would be to get out of town for a bit. That, and…”

For once, the Marshal’s sentence trailed off, as if he wasn’t sure what to say. Odis had only known Deafy for a few short weeks— he could probably count the number of conversations they’d had on both hands— but even that was enough to tell him he wasn’t a man with a tendency to mince words.

“...and?”

“...and I got a gut feelin’ you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Odis wondered what that meant, exactly, but Deafy didn’t give him time to think on it. Instead, he turned, pulling into the parking lot of a 24-Hour Diner, a beacon of red light in the quiet midnight sprawl.

Odis followed Deafy inside in a bewildered haze, not even registering when the Marshal ordered for them. The diner was almost empty at this hour, save a man at the counter and the waitresses bustling in and out. Everything was quiet except for the jukebox and the occasional sound of someone working away in the kitchen, the scrape of metal on metal or the whirr of a blender or washer.

A tired-looking woman with a lock of hair spilling out from underneath her hat brought him a cup of coffee, and Odis stared down at it, and then across the table at Deafy.

“You’ve got blood on your shoes,” Odis said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He’d seen it when they walked in— a smear of it on the linoleum, while the rest of him looked spotless. From the bloodbath it had appeared to be, it was almost a miracle it hadn’t gotten everywhere else, too.

Deafy nodded, taking a sip of orange juice from a glass that Odis didn’t remember anyone bringing by.

“These boots have seen worse nights.”

“You travel a lot, as a Marshal?”

“And as a member of the Quorum of the Seventy,” he replied, looking out the window at the empty parking lot. “You ever been out to California, Weff?”

“No.” A tentative sip of the coffee. It was hot on his tongue, in his hands, but he could barely taste it. He was usually the kind of man who liked cream, but he couldn’t bring himself to reach across the table for it this time.

“It’s nice there,” Deafy continued, still not looking at him. “Warmer than it is here, especially this time of year.”

“Most places are.”

Odis didn’t mean to keep dropping the conversation like bricks in a well, but he wasn’t entirely present, and Deafy was usually chatty enough for both of them. To be honest, Odis expected him to start off on some sermon about the virtues of warm weather on the human spirit or… something. This evening, though, he didn’t say anything more— he just took another sip of orange juice, and looked back at him.

“I don’t think you can save me, Wickware.”

He didn’t say what from— either the Cannons, or Faddas, or Eternal Damnation, but he figured he didn’t need to. It was all of the above, that and more.

“‘Course I can’t,” Deafy said, looking directly through him in a way that made him want to squirm. “Zelmare and Swanee are locked up tight, and I’ll be personally escorting them home tomorrow morning. What you do then is up to you. But I’m not one to abandon a lost soul when I see one.”

Odis felt the toe of Deafy’s boot nudge the inside of his left foot, and he felt that clarity again, like he was back in his own head.

“What guides you in life?” Deafy asked, and Odis could still feel the barely-there pressure against his shoe. “Why do you make the choices that you make?”

Odis swallowed, thinking as he took another sip of coffee. It was cooling now, and he knew that soon, it’d be lukewarm, too cold to enjoy.

“Fear?” Odis said, more like a suggestion than an answer. “I just try and do the best that I can do. Make the decisions as they come.”

“And you decided to kill me tonight?”

Odis flinches at that, but doesn’t deny it.

“That decision was made for me,” Odis countered, even though it was an excuse. “These guys… you know. You don’t do what they say, they’ll kill you. Kill me.”

Deafy stared at Odis. “And that voice in your head… what does it tell you?”

“It’s not a voice,” Odis said, struggling to explain it. “It’s like. It forces my hand. Won’t let me through doors unless I knock just right. Keeps me up at night with worry. Strangles me in a chokehold.”

“You said earlier you’d been dealin’ with this all your life,” Deafy recalled.

“It’s worse now,” Odis admitted, too readily. He hated talking about it, but now, his secrets were rolling off his tongue, spilling all over the table. “Like a noose that keeps getting tighter. Like one day it’s gonna kill me, but until then, I just have to keep fighting it off.”

Odis looked up at the Marshal. He’d taken his hat off when they sat down, and there were glints of the diner’s lights in his deep brown eyes. For the first time since they met, there was no smugness— the air of superiority that followed him wherever he went was gone. Instead, he felt himself standing on pins and needles, in a warm glow, understood.

“Most say courage is a virtue,” he said, after a long moment, “but virtue comes from within. Courage comes from faith.”

Odis sighed, shutting his eyes, but Deafy rested a hand on his, pulling him back in.

“For men like me, my faith is in the Lord, who made the heavens and the earth. I believe in his plan, and his word. It’s hard to put yourself in danger, to make decisions, to be a man. But my faith in him eases that burden because I know that if I fall, he will catch me, so long as I live his word.”

Deafy’s voice was severe and even, with the cadence of a teacher giving a lecture. A preacher, giving an affirmation.

“Some men, they have faith in money. Our Loy Cannon, for instance, he thinks no matter what, as long as he has money, he’s safe. He’ll do anything for it, and even more to keep it.”

“So what, you think I should be more like him?”

“Well,” Deafy conceded, shutting his eyes for a moment and almost smiling. “I’m certainly not condoning the worship of false idols. But when I see you, I see a man with no faith in anything. Not money, not God, and certainly not himself.”

“Kinda feels like myself is all I have,” Odis said, as he felt Deafy’s thumb run across the back of his hand.

“I know if I invited you back to Salt Lake with me— showed you how I see the Lord’s plan— well, you wouldn’t want any part of it,” Deafy said, nearly laughing. “But you can’t go on as you are. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

“So what do I do?” Odis asked, the fluorescent lights of the diner brighter than daylight.

“I think for now? You’ve had a long day.”

Deafy stood, removing his hand, donned his hat, and left two dollars on the table. Odis followed him out, pinpricks of rain dotting the pavement as they made their way back to the car.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to AnOrchidIsNotAFlower for everything, but especially for: encouragement, editing, and also creating 90% of this ship content.
> 
> This was originally supposed to be the beginning of something much longer, but I don't think I'll actually ever write that, so here.


End file.
